Watcher and Mover
by 2pennies
Summary: NickCassie. He wishes he was the Watcher, and she was the Mover.


**Title**: Watcher and Mover

**Author**: 2pennies

**Rating**: PG

**Fandom**: PUSH

**Pairing**: Nick/Cassie

**Disclaimer**: I am not affiliated with PUSH, the characters, or the actors.

**Note**: This is my first try at a PUSH fic. I love the Nick/Cassie element of the movie.

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He wishes he was the Watcher, and she was the Mover.

Instead of running (and always just barely escaping), she could Move blocks, weapons, whatever it took against those against her, those who wanted to take her. Instead of nightmares of the potential future that caused her tumbled sleeping and scattered nights, she could Move the covers over her too skinny legs with the flick of a finger still in deep sleep like he often did for her. Instead of constant pressures of whether what she saw could be prevented or could be initiated, she could smile and laugh like a normal teenager should, the way he liked to see her.

But mostly, he wished she was a Mover and he was the Watcher so that he could stop worrying about her all the time.

He sat on his couch, looking at the clock on the wall and then back at the watch on his wrist and back to the clock on the wall. He took a swig of his beer, his eyes pasted on the hands of the clock. His fingers pointed at the minutes hand, moving it back and forth on the clock, spinning around and around. His head spun at the sound of jingling keys against the front door. Wearing her signature boots and her short denim skirt, she spun around after closing the door behind her, the purples and pinks amidst the blonde contrasting against the grungy jacket. Her blue orbs met his expectedly and then at the clock.

"Clock's messed up," she greeted him as she stuck her head in the fridge.

He got up from his seat and stood behind her, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Where were you?" he asked.

She stood up, holding a can of soda and placing it on the table in front of them. Using her now free hands, she began tying her hair back with a band from her wrist.

"Out."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Out where?"

She looked up at him, hair out of her face. He wondered when she had changed so much.

"Does it matter?" she asked, her voice low.

He tore his eyes away from her and sat back down on the couch, once again Moving the hands of the clock.

"You could have let me know," he stated. He heard her sigh softly. She moved with her drink in hand and sat closely next to him.

"You worry a lot."

He wondered when he had changed so much.

He shrugged.

"I don't care enough to worry."

She took a sip of her soda and moved to place it on the coffee table next to his half empty beer.

"You worry a lot about me," she stated as a matter of fact.

The hands on the clock kept spinning.

He heard her sigh in exasperation, the form of her body loosening against the couch.

"I'm not going anywhere you know."

His eyes turned to meet her slumped figure, doodling something in her book.

"You went somewhere today," he replied childishly. Her eyes shifted slightly to meet his, her fingers still drawing.

"I mean, I'm not going anywhere. Without you. I'm here. With you. I'll be here," she said, spelling it out for him. It always amused him when she spoke to him as if he were the child. Then again, she wasn't a child anymore either.

Maybe that was the real problem.

He smirked slightly, the corners of his mouth betraying the hard persona he had been trying to play out. She continued to draw, her focus shifting back to her small book.

"Sometimes, I wish I was the Watcher," he said out loud, unsure of what made him say it.

"Why?" she asked, still immersed in her drawing.

"Then I could Watch you."

Her hand stilled as her gaze met his eyes once again. He saw a flash of confusion in her eyes as her expression softened.

"Then I could worry less about you," he finished.

Her head tilted slightly, her curious expression growing. He tore his eyes away from her and opened his hand in order to Move the beer back into it.

Sitting up and edging closer to him, she opened her book in front of him, leaning in close to catch his expression. He looked down to see a simplistic version of him sitting on the couch with his hand opened, a beer floating in front of him. Next to him was a similar version of Cassie, leaning in and showing him her book. The corner of the page showed a clock that read 1:30. Immediately, Nick's eyes glanced at the clock that he had been messing with earlier and found it with the small hand at one and the long hand at half past the hour.

His eyes darted back to Cassie's, her face close to his.

"I sort of like it better when I'm the Watcher," she replied with a hint of pride in her tone.

He smiled, wanting to laugh.

He moved his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear without touching her. She searched his eyes.

Finally, she took the book back, moving back to her original position.

He dropped his eyes down to his hands. He looked at his watch and changed the clock on the wall back to its original time. Looking back at Cassie who had continued onto a new drawing, he thought maybe it was better that she was the Watcher and he the Mover.

If he were the Watcher, he would never be able to Watch anything else but her.

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End file.
